


North Perimeter Road

by Stakebait



Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-06-01
Updated: 2010-06-01
Packaged: 2017-10-09 20:56:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 438
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/91541
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Stakebait/pseuds/Stakebait
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What if, when Oz left after the Initiative incident, he took Spike with him?</p>
            </blockquote>





	North Perimeter Road

**Author's Note:**

  * For [glossing](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=glossing).



> The title is borrowed from a poem by Marjorie Walish.

Oz only wants to fuck Spike on wolf days, and only outside. Deep in the woods, where the water is cold as waking and the leaves never see sun after they fall. They get on with turning into earth, hidden under each other, fermenting like wine. Spike kicks up little sprays with his boots as they walk: he always likes to see what's underneath.

Oz herds him back a few steps with touches of cold nose to throat, pushing sharp hip to hip when Spike stumbles until he's pinned against a tree. Cornered animals are the most dangerous. No hands -- hands are always the last to come back to him, not till he feels the rough rasp of bark.

Oz kisses Spike because he tastes of blood.

He catches Spike by the scruff of the neck, shoves him face down in the leaves. Newborn fingers fumble with buckles and buttons and then he's pressing into deep tight cool. He knows it hurts because Spike's pushing back at him, writhing, cursing, too many words.

Oz thrusts harder and everything is suddenly slick and simple. The blood smell is stronger now, mixing with leaves and dirt, lust and fear. Spike's skin shines like moonlight in the gloaming. Someone growls as he comes.

Oz's arms are shaking. He lets himself collapse and practices breathing. It's a complicated thing, like telling up from down under water.

There are toothmarks in Spike's shoulder, red and small. Oz twists to tug his softening cock free and Spike gives a small, bereft whimper. Oz laughs. No words now. Softly, tenderly, he begins to lick Spike clean.

The van is where they left it, by the side of the road. Oz pulls the chain from the back door handles with a clang and winds it up to stow under the spare. Last full moon night: They won't need it for a while. Spike crawls into the safety of the darkness and pulls Oz's sleeping bag up over his face. It gets cold in the back of the van, nights, and the fur coat only lasts till dawn.

It's crazy but it works, this day shift/night shift thing they've got going. Not a lot of things werewolves and vampires agree on, even leashed ones, but putting more miles between them and the guys with the stun guns is everybody's idea of a good time.

Up front, Oz pushes the road tape in. He drinks the last of the lukewarm thermos coffee, gets on with turning into himself. A few miles on, he catches an unmistakeable heady bitter scent and smiles into the empty rear view mirror.


End file.
